Nothing ever makes you happy
But miserableness;
You can't even care for your own child
Till it's in distress,
And untimely death is for you the crown of happiness.

Frankly, it gets a bit sickening
To see you raking about
In your delicate lavender costume
Turning the dustbin out,
Looking for yesterday's flowers, or some combings to rave about.

You're simply a walking Poor Law,
That's what you are!
Patching up rags with kindness:
Sighing for something afar;
You're just the incarnate wish of the moth for the star.

Goodness only knows what you want,
When the streets are a-bubble
With the laughter of girls and boys,
You're looking for trouble,
And you sigh your lean soul into bliss when you see Pain going bent double.

And there with it all you're as proud
As a camouflaged bantam;
Though the virtue you seek and pursue
Is a hideous phantom,
And your wishes would rot the whole world if the devil did grant 'em.

Come out of your miserable twilight,
And sit in the sun.
If you want to ‘turn over a new leaf,’
Do something for fun.
Let your joy in the Lord be to hear: “Well, she is a one!”